Joined and Divided
by TwilightMoon317
Summary: They are all at a loss, there is nothing left to do but take that last step.
1. Ideas and Ideals

I own nothing. ****** Part I: Aug. 23, 1989

The Baltics couldn't take it any more, this Soviet oppression. This living in fear of Russia, this permanent frustration, the kind that came only with a tether of chain and harsh retribution, that was all the brothers had known. It was killing them.

Russia was hell to them and hell could only be found in Russia.

But was it possible to escape from under the thumb of this insane man, or would it kill them? Would Ivan kill them?

Edouard could see Raivis' lip quiver as he explained the anti-Soviet feelings in his country, knowing fully well that his brothers could sense the stirrings, the burning in their minds and the strengthening resolve of their once-weak hearts. The unrest of their people was making them itch and burn with the want, the need, for independence.

But before independence, Edouard had decided, the brothers' Baltic needed a plan. A _good _plan that would not end in pain, death, and torture.

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_They had nothing. _

Ivan had been stripping the Baltics of all dignity, beginning with Toris; he had always been the Russian's favorite, most likely due to his proximity. Then it was delicate little Raivis, second in proximity, which made Edouard's heart burn, an angry smolder that would flare with even the slightest threat against the youngest Baltic nation. Perhaps it was because Ivan just did not care, or had forgotten, about him, but Edouard found that the Russian would ignore him.

He was the only one left with a sense of pride, even a shred of dignity, and that made him the only one who could organize what they were about to do: tell Ivan that they wanted out.

The Baltic nations of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania wanted their independence from Russia.

But, not really.

And that was the only thing bothering Edouard: the wishy-washy wording. The brothers wanted to show Ivan that they desired their independence, not that they were demanding it or fighting for it.

His undamaged pride took a blow at that.

When he pointed this out, Toris looked like he might faint and Raivis' eyes welled with tears; they were terrified of the repercussions their demands would bring.

Another blow.

This was all too much. He wanted, more than anything, to see both of his brothers safe and happy, independent to boot. But they were frozen in place by the fear of Russia, afraid to take even one step, a slight shuffle, toward the goal of freedom.

Edouard could see it in their eyes; the hungry look of a starving man. But these men starved for what they would never obtain and it was killing him, killing all of them and he would be damned it he could not stop them from dying.

It would break his heart.

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And so, it was decided.


	2. Confrontation

I own nothing. I realized a bit late that I should have done Estonia's history in chapter one. Oops. Sorry for the time-traveling.

1989

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Edouard was at his wits end: it was all becoming too heavy a burden for him to carry alone, Raivis and Toris being of no help here.

He had been fought over too many times, seen too much bloodshed and he was finally starting to lose it, now of all times. Denmark, Germany, Russia, Sweden and Poland had all tried to claim him for their own, long before he even realized why. But is just had to be the Russian that came out the victor of those skirmishes in the end. It was cruel fate: after all, his brothers had already succumbed to the cruel and cold man.

It had not taken long for Edouard to find himself in the same predicamment, 1721, actually, with no escape, no plan, and no reason to try for freedom. It would take him years to get fed up with his life in Russia, his life with Russia.

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1918

Edouard had been close, so tantalizingly close to free, independent. The Estonian War of Independence had gone well enough, considering he had to fight Russia and the Prussia.

A peace treaty.

He, Edouard von Bock, had finally achieved his goal. But it was short lived.

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Shortly before WWII, he had been taken back. Back to Russia, back to servitude, back to the hell that had been his life for over two-and-a-half centuries. Alfred had raised the cry first, followed by the other countries in the European Union and the European Court of Human Rights: it was outside the law for Ivan to take Estonia as his own again.

Ivan had ignored them, saying that the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact allowed him to re-annex Edouard.

It was too much. Edouard wanted to die, to hell with Ivan, to hell with his brothers, even if that last part made him feel sick to his stomach, taking a piece of his soul. But, for a brief time during the war, it had not been so bad. Luidwig- Nazi Germany- had occupied him for a time. He had welcomed the break, not so much enjoying the other's harsh company and insane ways.

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1944

Russia again. Edouard was growing tired of this, being tossed back and for between freedom, occupation, and servitude

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1989 (Present)

So here they were, standing hand in hand outside of Russia's study, where the occasional clink of glass made it evident that Ivan was drinking. Raivis wimpered and Toris held his hand tighter: a drunk Ivan was not an agreeable Ivan.

"So…" Toris fiddled with the cuff of his uniform, not successfully as his left hand was clutching Raivis' small, sweaty hand, "We're really going to do this?"

Edouard nodded, but doubt filled his mind. They were just saying that they wanted independence, not that they were decaring it, as Toris and Raivis wanted. Had it not been for them, he already would have marched into the study, punched Ivan and left, his own counrty once more.

But he had his brothers to think of. Had he gone through with 'Plan A', one of them would have been beaten to within an inch of life.

"Well, here we go." Edouard said as cheerfully as possible, pushing open the door without knocking, which made Raivis flinch with aprehension.

Ivan did not look up from his papers until Edouard cleared his throat loudly, purple eyes zeroing in on the brother he knew to be the cause of the interuption: Latvia and Lithuania would have knocked first. But no, Estonia had had too much freedom, he never listened.

"What is it you want? I am busy." He swished the vodka around its bottle, the light caught on the delicate, fascited surface, casting sickening shadows onto the floor and rainbows that were out of place in such an environment.

"We, Estonia, Lithuania, and Latvia, demonstrate our wish for independence from the USSR." Edouard said clearly. Ivan narrowed his eyes.

"I must have misheard you, da? What was it you said?"

Latvia nervously watched the vodka bottle, a potential weapon. Lithuania refused to look anywhere but at Ivan, a pleading look in his eyes. "Any moment now, you will receive a report of a peaceful demonstration: our people have joined hands, an unbroken chain stretching from Tallinn to Riga to Vilnius."

Raivis was the only one to move fast enough to avoid the vodka bottle, ducking out the door. Toris did not see the bottle make contact with his brother's face, but he felt it, the splatter of alcohol and something too warm to be a drink.

Edouard fell slowly to the polished oak floor, his hand still in Toris'. A shard of glass cut Lithuania's cheek, the vodka stinging the deep scratch. He winced as Ivan stood, eyes bright with anger and hatred.

"You would dare leave me?" He growled, making Toris draw back, cornered between the wall and an angry, drunk, Ivan. "Even you, Liet, my favorite? You would leave me?"

"N-no, sir. No, I would n-never leave you. N-never!" He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block Ivan out of his vision. A gloved hand forced his chin up, to meet the Russian's eyes.

"That is right, my Lithuania, my Liet." Ivan released him, standing straight and heading to the door. "You will never leave me."

He gave Edouard's still form a swift kick, spreading the bloodstain on more of the dark floor. "Clean this up, Liet." Ivan did not even turn around to see him nod before storming out of the study.

As soon as the footsteps were far enough away and he could hear Ivan calling for Raivis, a broken, rattled breath escaped Toris, tears falling down his face and stinging his cut. Slowly, he dragged himself over to his brother, where he lay, bloodied and beaten on the cold, hard floor.

He was breathing, breathing in and out. Toris let out a breath he did not know he was holding. With its release came the cascade of tears as he held Edouard's bloody face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, Estonia- Edouard, I am sorry."

His words fell upon deaf ears.


	3. Corruption

Nothing is mine. Yes, it is much longer than the first two, forgive me. I couldn't find a good place to break it off.

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When Estonia woke, it was in a bed that was not his own; a fact that was both frightening and fascinating: he could not remember what had happened before waking. Perhaps that was for the best, as the last thing he could picture were the terrified faces of his brothers and the cold, imposing door to Russia's study.

"Edouard?" A small voice spoke with such hope that the elder Baltic felt his heart break, even though his head was fuzzy and there was not face to match whoever was speaking. He supposed that he would have to turn his head to find out, but the very thought of movement made his head throb and his muscles ache with pain.

"Who?" His mouth felt as though it was filled with cotton, or something else of that nature, and his jaw creaked from use. Lithuania's head hovered over him, a small bandage on his cheek and a few bruises on his skin. Edouard furrowed his brow: the bruises made no sense-

With whatever vestiges of strength he had left, Estonia pulled himself upright, despite leaden limbs and spinning vision, latching onto this brother. Lithuania let out a little mutter of disapproval at his sitting up but the sound turned into a cry of shock as Edouard, with newfound strength and determination, ripped open the collar of his shirt, scattering buttons across the floor of this unfamiliar room, praying to God that his eyes were not right and that the dark discoloration was a trick of his mind-

Toris jerked back, trying to tug his shirt from his brother's grasp and cover his chest and shoulders again. Estonia let him go, hands falling numb with shock into his lap as he stared blankly at his brother.

"_What has he done to you?_" Toris had moved too far back and was now blurry, for Estonia did not have his glasses on and had not the motivation to find out where they lay. His head throbbed again, this time from trying to retain tears. "Oh God, what has that monster done?"

His brother's body was covered with bruises, from what little he had seen, and littered with fresh cuts that would surely scar. Toris looked at his feet. "You know how he can be when he's angry with one of us."

He had accepted this fate, Edouard realized. There was nothing more in his life to look forward to than beatings and violence.

It made him sick.

"This has got to stop!" He wanted to scream at Toris, shake him until he crumbled at his feet and cast off the oppressive man that was Russia. He wanted to run a knife along the Russian man's skin until he screamed in pain, like he had done to them so many countless times. He wanted to beat the damned man until his entire pale body was purple, black, and blue, to terrify him with words and a silence him, smite him, _hurt_ him, with just a single glance.

He wanted to yell until his lungs burst, telling his brothers, "Why are you so weak? He is just a man: fight back! Hurt him like he has hurt you!" He wanted, he wanted, he wanted-

None of that would ever happen. And the only sound that made it past his lips was a quiet sob.

Exhausted and defeated, Edouard fell back onto the bed, refusing to let any of his frustrated tears make it past his shut lids. His entire body quivered with shame and hatred, hatred for himself, hatred for his brothers, hatred for Russia.

Lithuania, sweet, weak, beaten, defeated Lithuania, rested a cold and on his cheek. "I'm sorry, Edouard. You just had too many dreams." He opened his hazy eyes and the hand fell away. "We can't ever be free. You should have known."

Edouard closed his eyes once more, shamed by the defeat in his brother's voice. The backs of his eyelids were dark and the room was cool, a pleasant contrast to his fevered skin and heated thoughts. Slowly, slowly, sleep came, settling on his body like feathers, allowing rest, but no escape.

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The next time his eyes opened, Edouard made note to take in his surroundings; he'd had his glasses put back on by someone. White walls, white sheets, the steady beep of medical equipment, the hum of machines: a hospital, then. Sleep still clouded his mind as he sought to remember what happened after he had pushed through Russia's door. Images followed, but none were helpful: Latvia's frightened eyes, the slosh of vodka in a bottle, Lithuania's head bowed in defeat, his face streaked with tears and blood…

None of those images were what he wanted: they were all too common in the Russian's household and he could recall thousands of instances for each, even all of them combined.

His head throbbed in protest, too much thinking and not enough healing sleep was taking its toll. Its toll…toll…toll…_Tallinn_!

"_Our people have joined hands, an unbroken chain stretching from Tallinn to Riga to Vilnius."_ He could hear his own voice so clearly and it pained him to hear those words a second time. Edouard could see, in the back of his mind, the Russian's angry glare and his own instincts registering the vodka bottle as a threat.

Out of curiosity and some macabre fascination, Estonia reached up to touch his head, the top part of which was swathed in bandages. That bottle must have shattered- horrified, he felt the rest of his face, thinking it as scarred as the rest of his body, but not so much as a prick could be felt anywhere on his features. Just his skull was harmed, most likely a scar along his hairline.

He let out a soft groan, thinking about what pain and suffering he had cause his brothers.

"I see you are awake, da?" Edouard felt his body go stiff and cold, praying to whatever higher being thought if humorous to induce such horrid hallucinations for his ears to quit the torture. His palms began to sweat and he clenched at the scratchy sheets, fisting the cloth and making Ivan chuckle.

"I'm dreaming- no, this is a nightmare. I'm in Hell-" Estonia found his mouth still felt filled with cotton and his lips were cold, numb. The words were barely a whisper but it was enough.

He was struck across the face with a large hand, colder than he himself felt, which sent his glasses skittering across the polished floor, coming to rest in come unknown corner.

"Da, you would wish it a dream, would you not, my little _Esti_?" Bile rose in his throat at the sound of his nickname coming from Ivan's sick lips. "You previous life up to this point was a dream; I obviously treated you too nicely and gave you too much freedom."

The hand of winter caressed the bandages with tenderness that Edouard made a terrible mistake: he relaxed. His mind was screaming 'no, don't let him touch you,' but his body was exhausted and physical contact- it was soothing.

Ivan let his hand wander down the pale face of the Baltic nation, brushing away a stray hair, lingering on the angry red mark he had just made, traveling down to Estonia's jaw line…he was taking his time: there was no need to startle the smaller nation, he had him right where he wanted.

By the time the hand reached Edouard's throat, he had registered that something was wrong, something was terribly wrong-

"Russia, sir-" he gasped.

"I will not make the same mistake again." Russia hissed, encircling his large hand around the Estonian's pale, exposed throat, cutting of whatever he was about to say. Violet eyes sparked with anger, making Estonia grow still for a moment, struck with a sudden fear: he could not remember the last time he was so powerless. "It will now become a nightmare. And you will not wake up."

Edouard struggled frantically beneath his hand, clawing at his arm with weakening fingers and resolve, a sight the Russian man found he enjoyed immensely: usually it was Toris or Raivis struggling before him, trying to throw him off in what they knew was an entirely hopeless attempt. Seeing the hope and fight drained from their eyes was always thrilling, but it had never happened before with Estonia, never. He was too proud, above begging and tears, too smart to be cornered, too sly to escape his clutches.

Not any more. The balance of power had shifted and Russia was on top. He would enjoy every moment of this, sapping all of this lesser man's pride and fight, felling it race through his veins, making his heart rush and his hand press harder, causing Estonia to gape like a fish for want of air.

"Remember something, Edouard…" he breathed, feeling with sick pleasure the rush of air into his lungs, something Estonia wanted so desperately, leaning in so closely that Estonia could feel the breath he was not granted to have.

Ivan leered at the smaller man, who closed his eyes and tried to turn away. The Russian forcefully turned his head back, shaking him a little. "Look at me." He ordered the Estonian.

The eyes did not open.

Ivan felt his composure crumble and his anger took full advantage of that fact: even defeated this little nation would not cave.

"LOOK AT ME!" he roared. Edouard clenched his eyes even tighter, still defiant. "I said to open you eyes and look at me. I will not ask again."

A soft knock on the door was all the warning the man got before it was pushed open by Lithuania and Raivis, bearing flowers and books for their brother. "Edouard, we're-"

The vase Toris was holding dropped to the floor and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, hand losing their grip at the sight of his brother being slowly crushed by Ivan.

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He remained stock still, taking note of Raivis shaking at his side, books shifting from their place on the tall pile and tumbling to the floor, crunching the destroyed vase. Lithuania thought it was all from shock and Ivan saw it as fear but Raivis proved them wrong.

He had finally had enough.

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"You leave him _alone_!" the smallest Baltic hurled the remaining books at Russia, startling him enough that his grip on Estonia loosened to allow air to flood his lungs. Raivis threw himself at Ivan, clawing at the man's thick arm, which was still attached to Edouard's throat. The Russian growled, tired of his conquest. Both hands seized Raivis and threw him to the glass-strewn floor; a swift kick followed that sent the Baltic into hysterical tears.

"All of you remember," Ivan stood, towering over the three brothers and surveying the damage. Toris remained perfectly still, not sure of who to go to first. Raivis was sobbing on the floor, right in the middle of the glass, which had torn through his clothing and was making him bleed, a dark crimson on the pale floor. Edouard struggled to push himself up, gasping for each breath, eyes still closed.

He loomed over Estonia, eyes narrowed, forcing the man's head back and his eyes to open, watery from lack of air. Ivan held his face tightly, nearly crushing bone as he leaned in closely. Raivis' sobs quieted with a single glare.

"You are all mine. Even before you existed as yourselves, you were mine." He shoved Estonia back onto the pillows. "Each one of you was a result of that disgraceful Treaty, land taken away from me-"

Edouard dared make eye contact with the angered Russian.

"**You. Are. Mine**." He growled, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Estonia slumped back onto the bed, exhausted. Both the other Baltics simply stared from their positions in the room, frozen in the wake of winter.

"I'm never," Estonia whispered. "Never going to be his."

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**Author's Note:**

I should be writing my WWI Treaty of Versailles debate, but this called to me. Anyway, while we're talking about this, I can't decide what to do with it: should it end here or go on? Now, I know I can change that at any point, but that just bothers me, when people 'complete' a story and then write more.

Suggestions and comments are loved. Any constructive criticism about my writing or style would be lovely as well.

I hope you enjoyed this latest piece, as it was fun to write.


	4. Nightmares and Freedom

(Well, hey there! I found this in my AP U.S. History folder and liked where my mind went with it! Here's installment four!)

Two years, two long years he suffered still, watching carefully over his brothers and keeping himself out of Russia's sight: the cold man was still angry, furious, over the Singing Revolution. His brothers had paid dearly for their participation in The Baltic Way and he shuddered at the thought that he had been the one to get off easy.

All relatively speaking, however.

Edouard was alone with his nightmares, the haunting visions of his failures to protect what he loved and those he loved, unable to keep his friends away from harm, always having to watch while the life was torn apart, hope shredded like a battle standard. Some nights, he would not sleep at all, instead staring at the whiteness of his walls to keep the vision from coming back. Even if he closed his eyes, they would come.

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Some nights, it would be the image of Russia haunting him, coming to get him while no one could see, take him where no one would hear his screams and pleas.

"You want to become one with the USSR, yes?" The man hissed, yanking Edouard to his knees. "You want to be mine."

His tears were only fueling the fire, making Ivan draw out the game. "I placed some people in your government; the votes will make you mine." When a sob escaped his lips, Ivan slapped him across the face, backhanding him hard enough to make him see stars twice: once on contact and once when his head bashed against the floor. "You will be Estonian SSR. We will be one, just like you have always wanted."

Ivan's boot had connected with his face in real life, but Edouard always woke up just before the tip reached his nose, usually bolting out of bed to make sure there was no blood on his skin, no bruises around his neck. All he ever saw in the mirror was his tear stained face.

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Feliks was fight with all he had, squirming in Ivan's grasp, but it was not enough to break free, it never was. Ivan would never be escapes to easily, especially by Poland.

"Eddie, help me!" Feliks gasped as large hands found a grip on his neck. "Ha-ahhhh…" No matter how the blonde tried, he could not get enough air to form words.

Germany held him tightly from behind and all Edouard could do was let out a small cry of horror as he saw Feliks go limp, not just playing possum.

"He is not dead, my little Esti. Just quieted, yes? You are lucky we do not do the same to you. You are already broken." Ivan threw the prone Pole over his broad shoulders and motioned for Ludwig to tie Edouard's hands together. "And you are mine. Come, comrade, there is partitioning to do."

Ludwig grunted and Estonia could only gasp. "What? How could you-"

Ivan's free hand slapped him hard. "We know what you and Poland were plotting," Ludwig said from behind him. "Your alliance was trouble."

"Alliance? What alliance? We're neighbors-friends-"

He was slapped again. "Even more dangerous. And here we were, only punishing little Poland for being allies. His punishment will be more fitting now, thank you, my Esti."

Edouard lunged forward but Ludwig had his arms bound tight and he fell flat on his face. Taking advantage of the situation, Ludwig tied his feet together, preventing him from moving at all.

"Now," Ivan grinned sickeningly down at him and Ludwig stood by silently. "We will have some fun partitioning Poland. He was always easy to conquer and break." He turned his back on Estonia and began to leave, Germany following closely by his side. "His screams are something, you will see soon Ludwig-"

"Bastards!" Edouard roared from the floor, thrashing. The two continued to the door, opening it. "Give him back! Leave him alone!"

Just as the door was shutting, Edouard saw Feliks move a little, raising his head and looking at him through groggy green eyes, flashing him a small smile before there was cold iron between them.

"No." He said softly. "No, Feliks! Feliks-"

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"FELIKS!" Lithuania ran quickly to his brother's room, meeting Raivis at the door, which the boy had already opened. They could hear Edouard's sobs as he lay in his misery, trapped in his own misery.

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And then, just as sudden as a nightmare, came his independence. Formally, he was free in August but Russia would not look at him until months later after he received a letter from Iceland, congratulating him on his hard won freedom.

It was a bittersweet victory, Ivan made sure of that, keeping his troops in Edouard's lands as long as possible, hoping he could scare the nation back into submission like he had done with his brothers. This would not work on him, not now and not ever.

Three years later, Ivan was gone completely, the last Russian troops leaving in 1994.

He was free, free to do what he wanted, say what he thought, ally with whom he wished.

He could only hope his brothers were not far behind.

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AN: …wow, um, where to begin. I chose those moments in Estonian history because they seemed like something traumatic. There were quite a few other instances I could have chosen, but eh. Hope you liked it : ) I kinda want to do another country, so if anyone has any suggestions…


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